Dr. Seuss, Brothers Grimm, Aesop and Me

My wife often picks at me about the my stories. There are fables within the family, tales of wonder, humor or disaster that we tell and retell time and time again at every family gathering, and though it is the umpteenth time we’ve relayed these stories the requisite response is the same. It was almost assured that each time mine gathered my dad had the same tales, the same stories, the same family lore and each time everyone would sit in rapt attention as he told the tale and respond accordingly. It was, in truth, no different than a fireside reading of some fairy tale or ghost story. The lineup of characters was of course, us.

Life is stories. In some of them we’re the main character, in some we’re the comedic relief, we do supporting cast, we fulfill bit parts, and in some we’re just an unnamed passerby. Some stories we write, some we’re cast in and in some we’re a part of a bigger plot that we cannot even pretend to understand. Every song, every book, every orally passed tale is a story that becomes a sentence, a paragraph, page, or chapter in our lives. There are plots within plots, side quests, mini-puzzles, and on and on and on. Then there are the stories we pass to our children. Both spoken and unspoken. We create stories with vacations, family gatherings, court dates, missed birthdays and Christmases. We are the creators of our own sitcoms and our own Lifetime Specials.

Sometimes we’re narrating, though I suspect, most of us are playing the parts we feel we’ve been cast in to the best of our abilities and leaving the plots up to others, or fate, or simply cast the pages to the wind and let them arrange themselves. There’s a motivational speech there somewhere. Another time, though.

Then there are time honored children’s stories, books, poems that we share with our little ones. Tales of caterpillars, and bears, and dogs flying their houses in air to air combat. Stories of rambunctious young boys rafting down rivers, a boy and his hunting dogs, and wild horses roaming the plains. Grouchy monkeys and curious ones too.

Then there are the unspoken ones and these are tricky, because sometimes you don’t even realize that you’re telling them. Little ears and little eyes hear and see all and remember vividly, mimic unconsciously and one day will pass those same stories to their children, viral and unnoticed but felt in their lives all the same. There are the stories that we need be more conscious of. Another motivational speech. Another time.

My point, as we’ve arrived in my meandering and wandering way in the context of this forum, is that stories are our way to pass along information, important and not so important, to our children. These posts, as I’ve mentioned, are one of mine. A way to pass a thought from my brain in a medium that my children one day, AI taking over notwithstanding, will be able to read and pass along.

And, as fathers, especially in this wizened age that I’ve been pushed, pulled and dragged into, we aren’t bit characters to our children. Whether you’re reading them One Fish, Two Fish, Huckleberry Finn, or the menu at iHOP you’re central to the theme. Whether animated or abivelent. Whether present or absent, you’re building a narrative. And they’ll be remembered. I know this all too well.

Life is stories. A chronological set of mental books stowed upon our mental shelf and a volume pulled from time to time to revisit a good tale or share a stirring event with our children, our family, our friends at the time of our choosing. The meaning of life, therefore, must be the creation of those stories. And we, being the authors, have the ultimate say so in what the narrative will tell. Your stories will build the intro to theirs. And that thread continues. Just as my grandparents and great grandparents are silently influencing my stories, so will you and I affect future generations.

My wife also says my stories sometimes take too long. But I’m enthusiastic. I’m passionate about my tales. I have fun with my stories.

And so should you. Go tell some. Or better yet, go make some of your own.